Sailing Kingfisher

18 – 22 August 2026

2 days at Owhanake, Waiheke

Met up with Cousin Martin and our grand old Aunt Rosemary at Owhanake, Waiheke, and promptly embarked on what can only be described as an endurance event in eating—the kind where you don’t keep a food diary because there’s no word count large enough. Day one was a full seafood marathon: piper for breakfast (because why ease into it?), snapper for lunch, and squid for dinner, just in case we’d somehow forgotten we were on a boat and needed an edible reminder. The next morning we bravely tackled Martin’s new-found Spanish breakfast specialty, potato tortilla, because clearly three seafood courses the day before just wasn’t enough excitement—we needed carbs to help us digest our poor life choices.

A winter’s day at Hokaimango Point

On Thursday we motored around the top of Waiheke to Hokaimango Point on a winter’s day so good it clearly hadn’t got the memo about the season. The weather was showing off like it had something to prove. Jim went diving (brave man), Liz took to the paddle board (sensible woman), and Martin decided to prove he was part penguin by swimming around his boat with no wetsuit. Spoiler alert: Martin is not part penguin, but he’s definitely part ice-cube.

Maori Garden Bay, Rakino

On Friday Liz and I went for a bit of a sail out into the Gulf, then headed to Rakino. On the way we spotted a large sea mammal of some kind at the Noises—or so we thought. Went to investigate like a couple of nature documentary enthusiasts. Turned out to be a rock, which was disappointing but also oddly reassuring. (We swear it was moving, but the ocean makes liars of us all.)

Met up with Martin and Rosemary again at Maori Garden Bay on Rakino where we drank too much, ate too much, and caught a few snapper—though not nearly enough to justify the amount of preparation involved. The catch was decent enough to take home for a feed, so we called it a win. Stopped at Motutapu with the intention of staying another night, but the wind had other plans and apparently woke up grumpy. Rather than stick around to negotiate with an angry gale, we headed for Islington Bay, Rangitoto instead. On the way the weather got dramatically worse—like someone had decided to turn up the dial on winter—so we made the executive decision to head back home instead. Sometimes the ocean says “no thank you,” and on that day, it was shouting it pretty clearly.